The house was in a quiet neighborhood, tree-lined and pristine. The kind of place where people jogged in the mornings and neighbors waved at each other from perfectly manicured lawns.
The driver pulled up to a modest two-story house with pale blue shutters and a small front porch. It looked almost charming. Normal.
"This is it, miss," he said, putting the car in park.
Mia stared at it through the window, her hands still folded in her lap.
It looked... nice. Too nice, maybe.
She got out slowly, her feet touching the pavement as the driver moved to unlock the front door. He handed her the keys without ceremony.
"Take your time looking around," he said. "I'll wait in the car."
"Thank you," Mia said quietly.
She stepped inside.
The door opened into a small foyer that led directly into a living room. Hardwood floors, clean white walls, a couch already positioned against the far wall. A coffee table. Lamps. Curtains that let in soft afternoon light.
